


Autumnal Secrets & Witchery

by sugarby



Series: magic au [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, M/M, Magic AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 05:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14730768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarby/pseuds/sugarby
Summary: Prompto bites his lip, “...Telling you is gonna open up a lot of questions. A lot more than I can answer right now ‘cause there are gaps that even I can't fill." Like why he's magical. More specifically how his biological father is magical—why that's a thing. And what he's meant to achieve now that he's aware he's magical too. What's in store for his future. Why it's taken twenty years to know about it."That's fine. Whatever it is, I'll be here with you, Prompto. I'm not going to all of a sudden quit being your best friend.""...Alright.""Yeah?""I can tell you about the other day. That morning, at least."





	Autumnal Secrets & Witchery

**Author's Note:**

> *An overdue expansion to [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10382946) and the very late addition to my [taletober](http://ssubby.tumblr.com/post/166395160365/taletober-217k) project I put together last year.
> 
> Spontaneously sat down and spruced this up today and I hope it's decent!

Autumn is one season but it has many different affiliations.

Pumpkin-Spice Lattes on quiet, cozy afternoons in cafes, packed with patrons knit together for warmth and pungent with coffee. A marathon of classic horror films that last through the night and spill over to dawn. Cold, early-darkening streets fresh with shoppers wearing the latest and fluffiest fashion—battling low temperature in style. Golden sunlight bleeding through curtains in sparkles over sleepy eyes and peeking over horizons in a soft, honey hue.  
  
Bonfires and thick blankets. Hotpots of juicy vegetables and peppers. Sweet spices like ginger in dough for what'll become the most delicious batch of cookies ever—the kind grandparents make that are always sworn by. Apples—lots and lots of apples in barrels for bobbing, in ciders, in crunchy fruit crumbles. And chunks of cinnamon sticks poking through thick swirls of cream on top of hot chocolates, poking out of vanilla-scented candles.  
  
Autumn is meant to be this amazing, chilled time of the year but Prompto can't think of these as much else than things he'll miss out on. It's all about change for him; the hardships his early morning premonition forewarned him of and he wants to avoid. For example, taking superstitions literally because they could likely have real risks for him. He used to think so little of them too, his premonitions, when they were new and rusty. Before they were a recurring frequency.  
  
Magic is usually peaceful and quiet most of the time, and more soothing than Prompto's lack of experience makes it seem. He'll admit that potion brewing and charm casting aren't so bad; they give a nice, therapeutic sense just before the anxiety kicks in when has to test them (thank goodness fighting dragons or entering 1v1 duels against powerful, dark wizards are nothing beyond creative works of fiction!). The whole business of magic is still very strange and new to Prompto. Twenty years, he'd gone, without knowing he possessed a drop in his blood. Without knowing that magic was even real.  
  
"Magic is a privilege, gift and right to be used by you however you deem...advantageous." On cue to remind him every time he has doubts is his mentor's ominous mantra that...actually has a point. It was Ardyn Izunia's tenacity and lack of care for other people's feelings that signaled the go-ahead for the big reveal in the first place. Not Prompto's biological father but the man he supposedly calls his 'right hand'—the shady, mischievous, wouldn't-trust-as-far-as-anyone-could-throw, maverick-wizard. But he's the only connection to magic Prompto has, being left in the dark for twenty years resulting in isolation from other witches of his generation.  
  
If he wasn't magical, he could be normal. Live a normal life and do normal, autumnal things with his best friend. Learning against the wall on the side of the living room that has the window view of the front garden, Prompto glances over to Noctis who is potentially engrossed in an RPG on his phone—a future king who is still more normal in nearly all conceivable ways in comparison. Prompto goes back to looking out the window. The sun is setting with a dazzling glow, filtering between the waves of leaves that loyally remain to their branches as opposed to the toasted, crunchy ones on the ground. Everything is mesmerizing—enough to almost relieve Prompto of his troubles.  
  
Noctis looks up from his phone and across the room, "That time already, huh?"  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"Finally time for you to reveal it then."  
  
Prompto's body subtly seizes up and anxiety crawls over in a mild attack of pins and needles, "Err—r-reveal what, exactly?"  
  
"Your pumpkin pie. I've watched you bake a dozen and I've eaten a dozen."  
  
"O-Oh. Right, yeah..." Laughter, nervous and unbalanced, tips out of Prompto's mouth. "T-Totally, Dude."  
  
"And...your secret."  
  
"...I don't ha—"  
  
"Whatever's been making you act strange lately." Noctis elaborates so there's little to no room for any more excuses. He's heard enough of them over a period of months now, none of them really plausible enough or just too repetitive to believe, so now it's come to the point where he can't overlook things anymore. "Whenever we make plans or something, you just bail with some half-assed excuse." It comes out a little harsher than intended but there's no apology because Noctis, in a way, means what he says. Prompto has run out on him more times than he can count, has delivered a string of gibberish and called it a 'reason' like an unrehearsed script so often it's a little comical.  
  
"I haven't been bailing on you, Noct. Things come up that I can't say too much ab—don't give me that look."  
  
"I'm not giving you that look." he argues while in fact giving 'that' look. The look that says he knows better. That look of condescension that's meant to lead the person on the receiving end in to confessing out of guilt. "Is it something I said or did?"  
  
"I just...don't want things to change." As awful as he feels for making Noctis start overthinking everything and anything he's said or done in the past months, in case it was the trigger for the issue at hand, he knows there are some secrets people are keep to protect what's precious.  
  
"Okay, look, I...I can't promise your secret won't make the world spin in the opposite direction, but it's got me really worried."  
  
"It shouldn't. I'm f-fine." Prompto clears his throat, "Everything's...totally fine."  
  
"Why don't I believe you?"  
  
Prompto bitterly reckons it's because he stopped stuttering when they both entered high school together. He stares out the window awhile longer at the change in color with some hostility. "I can't tell you everything, Noct."  
  
"Maybe you just don't want to." Noctis crosses his arms over his chest, "Like you don't trust me."

Prompto bites his lip, “...Telling you is gonna open up a lot of questions. A lot more than I can answer right now ‘cause there are gaps that even I can't fill." Like why he's magical. More specifically how his biological father is magical—why that's a thing. And what he's meant to achieve now that he's aware he's magical too. What's in store for his future. Why it's taken twenty years to know about it.  
  
"That's fine. Whatever it is, I'll be here with you, Prompto. I'm not going to all of a sudden quit being your best friend."  
  
"...Alright."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I can tell you about the other day. That morning, at least."  
  
Noctis nods, willing to will take whatever he can get because it'll be enough.  
  
Prompto says they should be comfortable first (and plans to spend time calming himself beforehand). He says he’ll make them tea first and goes to the kitchen. Fresh water is boiled and two cups are filled with spice infused tea. He waits. He leans back against the counter, collecting his memory of the morning he's about to tell from his perspective.

 

 

_*   *_

  
  
  
  
Of the several reasons for why Prompto Argentum bakes, there's one in particular different from the rest.  
  
He likes to; has a natural knack for it. So he runs his family's small bakery and takes charge of the counter, greeting customers and making their day with his smiles, his charms (pun unintended) because he enjoys it. He likes putting his hands to work and keeping his mind from wandering further than it can handle.  
  
The main reason is it's good practice. Customers can't quite put their fingers on what makes them feel so good, so peaceful, so positive and courageous and open when they eat what he makes, but they're awed nonetheless.

It's still the special, little magic he works.  
  
Noctis swallows the final piece of his slice of Pumpkin Pie. It’s good enough to lead a satisfied hum from him, “No more practice needed. This is the one."  
  
"Well if the future King says then it must be so."  
  
"Yeah. So you better start serving this to your customers before there are riots in the streets. Nice touch on the secret ingredient, too."  
  
Prompto, in the middle of fetching ingredients from a high cupboard behind the counter, sweet jams and magical potions, stops on the extra height given by his toes. “...My secret ingredient?"  
  
“You think I don’t know? You can tell me. Cinnamon? No...” Noctis smacks his lips, trying to guess. He can’t tell and gives up. “Whatever it is, it tastes great."  
  
“...Thanks.”  
  
“So? What is it?”  
  
“Uh…” Prompto sifts through his mind over potions and spells for a plausible, non-magical substitute answer. He finds nothing and so considers it a sign to be more assured with confessing his secret finally. It'll mean breathing a little easier. When he's about to start off, another premonition hits. Not forcefully like a car rushing forward. It's always a gentle, warm spreading through the body. "I gotta go…! There’s a, uh, something for me. Last minute thing, you know.”  
  
Noctis squints, "What?"  
  
Prompto points at him, "You should get that too."  
  
Noctis tries to ask what it is he should be getting when his phone in his pocket plays the designated jingle for an incoming call. Reaching for his phone and pressing it to his ear, he holds a confused stare with his best friend. "...Yeah?"  
  
Prompto steps into inventory room behind the counter, closes the door behind enough to shield and mute conversation. The inventory room is spacious enough to host his magical equipment (unconventional, but better than his home which Noctis frequents). On the table in the center is a white box. That wasn’t there before. The morning post has already come and gone. It’s just arrived now, magically, out of nowhere.  
  
Prompto sighs with woe over magic intruding on his good times again. He goes over and sees a note on top with the familiar black-link curves of writing and a the raven feather attached that are Ardyn Izunia's signature. A number of magical items could be lying in wait for him wagering from good and harmless to something like the severed limb, pungent and gory, from a mythical creature to be used in advanced potion making. It won’t be the cookie cutters he ordered in the shape of a leaf, a cat and a pumpkin. No, it'll be a monstrosity, courtesy of his mentor’s sadism and sick humour.

He shakes the box, nothing rattles.

He leans closer, nothing ticks.  
  
_‘It's not the-going to open itself, dummy!'_ Tama would say in her unique manner of conversing.  
  
Prompto takes off the lid and inside the box are soft shreds of paper, underneath are folded clothes. A uniform with the badge of the magic academy shining in its warm, honey theme colours over the left breast pocket. He holds up the blazer and the light illuminates the sewn matching strips along the collar, lining the blazer inside and around the hood, and sleeves of it. The three big buttons descended on one side in a darker shade. He scraped by in the exam for the academy, narrowly passing despite how sure he was of botching up the questions on the right spells and summons to cast in certain situations. Now he has to make sure, come January when he starts, he isn’t running on luck and miracles more than magic.

Tama, if she were here and not with two newly awakened twin wizards, would say _'For the thousandth time, you the-deserve to be there! If you weren’t good enough, Master Ardyn the-wouldn’t have recommended you. We the-believe in you!'_ (He imagines what she’d say in a lot of situations too much, he’s aware. Has he mentioned he misses her? ‘Cause it’s true). He could've really done with her support.

And her forewarning of the dreadful visit.

Just like before, like every time, Ardyn's arrival begins and ends with the feeling of dread, of being lost, of darkness and inescapable despair. Thick waves of cloud and smoke with gold flecks of magic spitting here and there like tiny starbursts swallow the entire floor of the room. It's nearly sentient, moving by will more than command. It darkens before it settles, rising high then falling to reveal his mentor standing there with his iconic cane under both hands. It’s an act to him, his coming and going, and needs proper presentation it seems.  
  
_'Shit. Shit. Shit.'_ "H-Hey, Ardyn.”  
  
Ardyn scans the inventory room, expecting little to be impressed by but willing to give it chance. He happens to notice the inventory room door left ajar, leans sideways and sees Noctis at the counter on his phone. "Not interrupting an important engagement, am I?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Won’t happen again, I promise.”  
  
"I know better than to take your word on anything."  
  
Ardyn motions to Noctis with a nod, "Careful not to share more than necessary with someone like him." Meaning without magic, who's unequal to someone even as lacking as Prompto.  
  
"He's not—"  
  
"I'm here on business. I expect you received my gift."  
  
"The uniform? Yeah. You really didn’t have to—”  
  
“Uniforms are mandatory at the Academy.”  
  
“No, I know, but you didn’t have to buy it for me. I could’ve...I don’t make millions working here but I do...alright.” His mentor smirks and Prompto flushes a little, not ashamed but hardly confident in front of him and his condescending ways, “So, yeah, thanks. And for teaching me magic. It’s a real pain but...I guess I’m grateful.”

Ardyn looks around the inventory room, particularly at the back shelves of magical ingredients in glass jars and bottles. "...You seem to have made use of this dainty room. Impressive, but it baffles me to know you're still working your fingers to the bone in a place like this. The life you live is very lacking.”

Prompto shrugs with irritation, “It’s the only life I’ve got.”  
  
“You don’t understand the power of the magic coursing through your veins, do you?”  
  
Prompto laughs dryly, “No, but I’m sure the examiners and that one, snobby senior have a good idea after they saw how much I sucked.”

“You lack experience and confidence, not power. Prompto, you are a rare and high-in-demand type of wizard whose power excels when driven by emotion.”

“Dude, I have to watch my emotions or else the friggin’ toaster or something might fly off the counter in front of Noct!”

Ardyn’s eyes roll unsympathetically, "Don’t let a mere mortal obstruct you, magic is your birthright. You fear he’ll leave you if he finds out what you are?”  
  
“He’s not like that.”  
  
“Trust me, dear boy...” Ardyn beckons and in his mind are memories he shelters deep within. Memories of being outcasted by the same masses he risked tooth and nail to save once upon a time. And it sticks, something like that. And stings far worse than any curse spell he could’ve put on any of them. “All people are like that.”

Prompto decisively shakes his head, “No! Noct isn’t like that! I just don’t want—"  
  
“You don’t get to ‘want’, you do. You’re entitled to learn to use your magic and I’m personally seeing to it.”  
  
“Why?!” Prompto’s spent so long asking himself this, trying and failing to figure it out for himself. He’s half joking but mostly concerned asking, “Planning to make me your one-man army to use in world domination or something?!”

Ardyn forgoes answering, deciding by himself the details of why are minor. He cares little how curious and anxious not knowing makes his one and only student. At least for now with much more important magical things to fret over. But he lets him have this, “I’ve come here today to ease your concerns. To ensure you’re not too far behind the wizards of your generation.” His manoeuvres his hand in a specific motion and a big, thick, hardback book drops in Prompto’s hands, so suddenly he stumbles forward.  
  
“This is the standard book of magic every student at the academy receives in their first year. It’s tradition to add your own notes throughout the years by the time you’re fully fledged.”

Prompto wheezes, the book’s weight seemingly increasing in his arms, “....What...the hell?!”

“And this,” Ardyn takes, from a pocket inside his iconic, long coat of fur and decadence, a much smaller book, black and leather bound. He just hands it to him this time, no magical interventional. That, coming from him, makes the book seem a much bigger deal than its size, and Prompto eyes it cautiously. Its pages are tired and worn from plentiful years of use. “This is my personal handbook of spells I’ve crafted or...embellished. All dangerous if misused, all a powerful insurance with the confidence and knowhow.”  
  
Prompto takes the book in the hand not clutching the other with every ounce of strength. He sticks his thumb between the pages in a leisure skim and, seeing the complex annotations to illustrations, he’s awed flawlessly. “Who. Holy shit, Ardyn…” and breathless from it. “I’m just a pleb. Half of these don’t mean shit to me but I can tell….” slowly, his focus rises from the book to its original owner. “You’re the real deal.”

“Never once have I implied different.”

“And you’re just giving this away? To me?!”

“Conditionally.”

“Should’ve known.”

“All I ask in return is that you triumph, Prompto.”

“As in...you want me to do well?”

“If the student performs unfavourably, it reflects badly on their mentor. I’m hoping to see you grow in to a strong wizard--like your father. No, stronger than him. I’m familiar with having things kept from me. Secrets, entitlements. I’d like to see you prevail.”

It’s a lot of information to take all at once. Surprisingly sensitive too, coming from Ardyn. Prompto feels like he doesn’t know what to do, so he laughs like it’s a joke. Like it’s a year ago and he’s just being told that magic is real—he’s laughing—and that he’s in fact a wizard—he laughs more and there are tears. He’s heard of parents living vicariously through their kids but….no. He stops that. He shouldn’t be a dick when Ardyn is, possibly, actually being straight with him. Sharing his hopes and aspirations, trying to instil confidence. “Thank you, Ardyn. I’ll try not to let you down.”

Ardyn smiles, “I expect you to have reached chapter fifteen by tonight.”

Prompto blinks, lost. “Uh, wha—chapter fifteen? Of this book?” He jams a finger to the thick, heavy, hardback one and hopes it’s another sick joke. “Dude, it’s like…” He takes a moment to skim through the appropriate amount of pages leading to the specified chapter. Ardyn’s impatience isn’t subtle with the way he clears his throat and taps his cane meanwhile. Prompto lets the pages fall and the book close with a horrified face, “...The fuck? Four hundred...every chapter is exactly four hundred pages!”

“Yes.”

“And you want me to read all that by tonight?! There’s no way!”

“Didn’t you just vow to try to not disappoint me?”

“But, Dude, this is insane!”

“Chapter fifteen.” Ardyn stomps the end of his cane like his firm, intimidating tone with a threat lurking isn’t enough to make someone submit. “By tonight.”  
  
Prompto swallows, “...Fine. I'll read the stupid book.”

Ardyn sighs. He can see that sulk on his student’s face lasting for the remainder of the evening. “Prompto, when one is entitled to greatness, they ought to get it. Your father was a fool to keep you from it.”

“I get it.” Prompto sighs and feels exhausted by all of this pressure, but he nods because he understands regardless. “Really, I do. You want me to prove myself to you.”

“And to yourself. Study and practice diligently, Prompto, because I won’t always be here to mentor you.”

Prompto nods again.

Ardyn smirks, “Very good.”  
  
"Gotta admit. Crafting spells and charms and and putting them in my cupcakes keeps my customers happy. If I can do that with my magic then I want to."  
  
Ardyn smirks, “My boy, you’ve only just begun. I'll be in touch." And just like before—like always—he's gone, engulfed in the thick, dark smoke he brings with him.  
  
Prompto nearly calls out to him but the sound of an impatient Noctis overtakes him. He hurries back, pleased to be shot of Ardyn. Then he stands in front of Noctis and remembers the conversation he walked out of—how his best friend was trying to uncover his 'secret ingredient'.  
  
"So, the big secret." Noctis says like he's a mind reader.  
  
Prompto freezes, "How did...h-how much did you see?"  
  
Noctis' brow rises, "Nothing yet? You went in there to help a friend or something. But no more stalling, let’s heat the big, secret ingredient."  
  
"Oh, right. The secret ingredient. It's love. You—you know, 'cause...I love you, you love me and we're a...a happy...f-family?" He doesn't know where the theme song to an iconic children's series came from all of a sudden, or how he believed it would help.  
  
"You're acting really odd."  
  
"What? Pssh, no way. Dude, I'm totally normal."

 

 

_*   *_

  
  
  
  
Noctis stares in to his half empty cup, "Remind me why we're drinking tea?"  
  
"Seasonal appropriation, Noct. Duh." The tea in their hands and warming their lungs, their souls, is flavoured with ginger and honey. "And you don't like coffee. And I'm out of hot chocolate. Sorry, man."  
  
Noctis shakes his head and reaches forward for his cup, "No, its okay. You've done enough. I felt it was something big, but not like that. _Huge_. Ignis and Gladio thought you were...liability, maybe. I told them I didn’t have a clue what you were hiding but it wouldn't be that."  
  
Prompto hadn't thought of the secret he kept to be seen in that sort of perspective. "You know, it's not like I've been keeping this from you ever since we met. I found out a few months ago from Ar—" He bites his tongue, preferring to keep his mentor's details out of it if possible. Ardyn has mentioned that going round and telling people he's a wizard is risky enough, but he also hasn't given permission to be divulged to anyone. The name Ardyn Izunia is talked about in hushed tones, in corners and shadows like the ones that surround the man for his misdeeds. "From an acquaintance of my biological dad's. If it wasn't for him, I'd still be baking away none-the-wiser. Still wanting as little as possible to do with the guy who abandoned his son."  
  
"That makes sense."  
  
"But it's not fair on me. While I found out and wanted to be...as far from my past as possible and just be normal, someone's helping me understand that magic is mine to use as well, not just my father's. So why shouldn't I get to know about it? I'm not interested in the guy who abandoned me but if I don't learn about magic then it's like he's won."  
  
"Your life isn't a game, Prompto."  
  
"Then why do I feel like I've been losing this entire time?"  
  
Noctis doesn't have an answer for that. But life can and will make people feel hopeless. Eventually he says, "So, you're a wizard."  
  
Prompto nods. He exhales a laugh through his nostrils, "You kind of get the idea now. How I felt befriending the prince."  
  
"Well _I am_ pretty cool."  
  
Prompto shoves him, " _Or_ I was so desperate I would've taken to _anybody_."  
  
"How does your magic work anyway?"  
  
"Mostly rhyming, creativity and a mythical creature here and there. I have a teacher and I'm his only student. So I gotta do him proud, you know? He's theatrical and really dangerous but if he ever up and quits teaching me then...that'd be it."  
  
"Can't ask someone else huh?"  
  
"Dude, I'm totally new to this whole magic thing. Few months ago, I thought I was normal. I barely know anything past basic potions. The spells, I'm still finding tricky."  
  
"You'll get through it. It's the only way to anyway."  
  
"It's pretty hard."  
  
"You told me once that the hardest thing you've ever done is—"  
  
"Working up the nerve to talk to you." Prompto finishes with a sigh, hanging his head a little as he remembers and feels embarrassed for all the watching from afar he did. "...Fuck. I can't believe I did that."  
  
"But you did. Though it sounded like you wanted something different when you said 'love' was your secret ingredient."  
  
"It was a joke."  
  
"Aw, so you're not totally in love with me then?" Noctis teases, laughing. He falls sideways until his head lands on Prompto's shoulder, and Prompto wonders if his erratic heart can be heard clear as day. "Everything's okay. Not _everything_ but the stuff that matters. You and me. I promise."

**Author's Note:**

> I've written Prompto as Passive Witch, meaning his magical abilities are always active and not even when he's always conscious of it, and yet here's Ardyn, the mentor, trying to teach him how to move things with a snap of his fingers and all sorts of Harry Potter kind of magic. Ideally, he's more of a The Good Witch/Charmed kind of magical being.
> 
> Thanks for reading if you did, hope you enjoyed! ❤ ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


End file.
